


Everything Changes, Remains the Same

by PhoenixDragon



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Introspection, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 05:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6892468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixDragon/pseuds/PhoenixDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>And now there was no Barn. Supposedly there would be no more Troubles. She likely wouldn’t be around to check that theory, but this being Haven…well, one could never truly count on anything. Guarantees were never set in stone. And Haven was more than just a small town in Maine. It thrived because it </i>looked<i> like your standard, sleepy settlement-on-the-water, but she had been born and raised here; meant she damned well knew better.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything Changes, Remains the Same

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PeterHaleforAlpha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeterHaleforAlpha/gifts).



The thing about Haven, Maine, is that even long after the Troubles are over – being Maine and being Haven – there is still no shortage of _other_ troubles. Just less with that capital ‘T’. In fact, all of them were the typical, ordinary disasters that afflict small, northern coastal townships: crashed trawling boats, harpoon and fish-hook injuries, drunk or sun-sick tourists with broken bones, small fires, car wrecks and gunshot wounds (to name a few). 

Most of these accidents and tragedies were non-fatal. The medical examiner’s office certainly got less traffic than it did when the Troubles manifested themselves; but even with Troubles, you still had the ordinary (and sometimes sad) deaths that come with a thriving populace – including ones as small as Haven. 

She had said she was retired. She had meant it, too. But when old Gus Parnaky had his heart attack just last month, well…he couldn’t very well examine himself, now could he?

They could have brought in a ‘transplant’ (common among smaller towns like theirs), but why do that when she was still around? Retirement was boring, anyhow. Just sitting around doing nothing. If she kept on like that, it wouldn’t be long before she joined Gus in the after-life; she was born and bred to work. And truth be told, she was rather glad of it.

At least when she died, she wouldn’t have very far to go.

So she had come back ‘home’. Her kids and grandkids weren’t happy, but they were Nor’easterners: when were they ever happy? They would get over it. She could still play Grandma on the weekends – which was what truly mattered. The week was made for working. And if someone kicked it on a Saturday? Well, that was what freezers were made for.

She finished up the last of the paperwork on Heidi Latrell, being sure to fax the information to Portland where they would issue the death certificate. Even with computers and data-at-your-fingertips modernization, it still took up to six weeks to get a hard-copy of a death certificate. Her report (and pre-made temporary certificate) would have to be good enough for the mortuary. But it usually was, even during the Troubles. 

She and Graham Lacey (the Lacey Home’s funeral director) went way back. They remembered the Troubles during the seventies. She was just an autopsy gremlin then – but she caught on quick and had done more than her fair share of handling the dead and their grieving families. Without the Troubles there were certainly less moments like those (far less), but it didn’t stop death altogether when that Barn went back to where-ever it had come from.

And now there was no Barn. Supposedly there would be no more Troubles. She likely wouldn’t be around to check that theory, but this being Haven…well, one could never truly count on anything. Guarantees were never set in stone. And Haven was more than just a small town in Maine. It thrived because it _looked_ like your standard, sleepy settlement-on-the-water, but she had been born and raised here; meant she damned well knew better.

Gloria sighed under her breath and put Heidi’s file in the outbox, ready for pick-up in the morning. She kept a record in her office, of course, but she had already made sure to tuck that away – just in case Heidi’s doctor needed anything to back up his own reports. She doubted he would. Henry was young, but thorough and Heidi’s death was just an standard case of aging and poor health. 

Gloria had known Heidi her whole life. She had baby-sat Gloria and her brothers when they were just wee ones – their lives spread out before them, adulthood (and all that came with it), ever so far away in their perceptions. Such is the way of things for the young. The trick being, the lenses don’t actually change all that much when you get older; all you do is swap the ends. Death seems closer and youth is just a memory.

Though with her secret stash of gin (just where she left it and good thing too, as Gus would have killed himself with it that much sooner if he had found her hiding spot), she was rather glad she was past youth and all the headaches that came with it. Her joints ached and she didn’t move as fast as she once did, but she could take heartache that much better than her sons and grandchildren.

At least, she could tell herself that after a second jigger…and she might actually believe it.

It also meant she didn’t scare or startle half as badly when the unexpected happened. Even if it was less unexpected and just more _Haven_ than she was used to these days. Just went to show that even she could forget – though she didn’t know how she could ever forget him – much less the hurt that she felt at seeing him. 

Heartaches still came. Age lessened them. But Gin always helped.

“Duke Crocker,” she smiled, lifting her glass in semi-salute. “As I live and breathe.”

“Gloria,” Duke grinned, his smile as lopsided as ever, though he looked more tired than he ever had this side of reality. “How’re things your side of the world? Thought you had retired.”

“Thought I had, too,” she grunted, wincing as she slung her feet up onto the mahogany monstrosity that was her desk. “Turns out retirement sucks. The birds can have it.”

“Gus’ ticker gave out?” He asked sympathetically, settling himself on the edge of the desk near her feet.

“Yup. Hope you didn’t show up and keel him over, Duke.”

“Nahhh,” he shrugged easily, crooked smile never wavering, though his eyes dimmed for a mere moment. “Gus and I never really talked. I smuggled contraband and ran a gin-joint – he was a chop-artist…not much in common there.”

“It was ironic,” Gloria admitted. “One of the best heart surgeons in the county and he died from a bad ticker.”

“Not surprising, actually,” Duke said, smile dropping away by degrees. “My old man always said the best plumbers had shit-plumbing in their own houses. Why would a heart-guy get his own checked? The ultimate definition of irony.”

“Where have you been?” She didn’t mean to sound accusatory or demanding, but from the mild ripple across Duke’s shoulders, he took it that way. Guilt and sorrow chased across his face before the grin returned – his mask and deflector always at the ready – even with her. It made her angry that he had to be that way, but she understood it all the same. Duke’s armor helped him survive. Even when it came to one of his best friends.

Sad that he pressed her keep their friendship secret. No one knew and he made damned sure it stayed that way. She’d be flattered if she wasn’t insulted on his behalf. She had a good reputation. He had always wanted to be sure it remained exactly that – and being friends with a Crocker; nothing good ever came out of it. It was just terrible that he was so hyper-aware of it.

She should’ve been a better friend, though. For her own sake, if not for his. He deserved so much better. He always had.

She should’ve adopted him when she had the chance.

“Out and about – checking on the Gull, on my boat. It is weird, you know? Being dead, but not dead? I still haven’t figured out a way to…” He raised one shoulder and lowered it, grin becoming a hard line of teeth before it resurfaced into the Duke Special: charm and disarm. “It’s okay, though. Nathan is okay. And he found Audrey, even if she isn’t…well, _Audrey_.”

Gloria paused, gathering her thoughts before she spoke, knowing how sometimes bluntness was not appreciated, even as it was a trait she normally relied on. Duke was hurting. He was lost, even as he was right here. She could hear him wanting her to ask, even if he didn’t want to answer – and that meant she had to reach for a delicate touch she rarely had to use, even with those who had lost loved ones. Duke had lost far more than that. Far more than was fair. The least she could do was ask, even if it meant him pulling away from her. That thought hurt more than seeing him as he was now – but it was time to be a good friend – not worry about her own feelings.

“You know, it is good to see you,” she said slowly, pouring her third (and final) jigger and capping the bottle.

“But?” He asked, hint of laughter in his voice to hide the fear: fear of rejection, fear of what she might say. It didn’t matter – the fear was the only thing that did. The fear and the surety that his fears would be true. Somehow, that hurt even more. Because when had he ever been incorrect?

“But…have you talked to anyone else? Besides me and Dwight, I mean.” She eyed his jaw which had a slight tick in it, his face involuntarily giving away more than he intended it to.

“Nathan? You mean Nathan,” he shook his head, eyes hooded to hide what he was thinking, even as he kept smiling the Crocker smile that protected him from the world. That protected him from himself. 

“Yeah, Nathan,” she nodded, pretending to sip the Gin though she no longer had a taste for it. “Did you ever tell him – ”

“No,” Duke cut in sharply, his breathing too steady and eyes too focused – set anywhere but on her face. He expected disappointment. Disgust? Anger? The very fact that he expected these things, these negative and dissuading reactions, said more about Duke’s friendships and what he had come to anticipate from them than it did about Duke himself. Gloria had to swallow the anger and dismay that always came with this realization; each time it was like a new revelation, fresh and painful. The fact he took it in stride only made it worse. “There was…there was no time. And besides – it is _Nathan_. He had – _has_ – Audrey. He didn’t need…no, he didn’t want anything like…that was all a long time ago.”

Duke licked his lips and laughed, a short bark of breath as though to convince himself it was funny – that it didn’t matter. If he had been all _there_ the grip he had on the mahogany edging of the desk would have been crushing, his knuckles white with all he couldn’t say – even to himself. His last protest was weak, almost pathetic: a sorry excuse for all that he never bothered to say. Because he felt he already knew the outcome. 

He was already a ‘social’ reject, even amongst those he claimed as friends. To even dare to hint of his feelings for one of those friends was to court disaster. Duke had survived many, many things, but even Gloria had no delusions on Duke’s limits. He had less faith in himself than Gloria did, but with his life? Really, that was no surprise. 

Sometimes Gloria hated Haven – and not for the reasons one would think. Troubles were nothing compared to small-town prejudices and hatreds. The Crockers were protectors: fail-safes during unsure and catastrophic times. They were among the town’s founders. There had always been a Crocker in Haven – until Duke. The last and the most vilified, even as the reasons for that hate and fear were shown to be unfounded. They did what they were made to do. Some may have enjoyed it (every family had their villains), but Duke had fought his heritage, only to be consumed by it. He had been shoved between worlds in an attempt to save _this_ one and his name was now forgotten. Quickly relegated to history and ‘once upon a time’ – memories and history the town was more than glad to put behind them.

No one was more aware of this than Duke.

But to be a Crocker and be in love with the (very male) cop-hero of the town? One from a long line of would-be heroes? There were no words made to describe the hell Duke would have been subjected to. And the risk was getting that hell (and so much more) from the man he had been carrying a torch for since they were mere boys. 

Nathan loved him then. But love can become twisted into something sleekly vile and vicious – especially when one loves a Crocker and your papa is the police chief of Haven. Nathan hadn’t looked back since. Gloria was witness to the hatred and scorn that Nathan felt to his one-time friend (and more?) as the years had passed. Closeness had only deepened the distrust and impatience he displayed towards Duke – all the way up to the end.

No, she couldn’t blame Duke for keeping silent. Nor could she really blame Nathan. There was no one to point to, nothing to pin the hurt on when the dust settled and that was what really galled her. After all those two had been through, Duke couldn’t even bury the hatchet. 

Gloria wasn’t sure why, but she had a feeling that she would find out. And that it would be the ultimate in Haven-soaked irony. The town was a bitter and fickle bitch – and she would want to get one final bite in on a Crocker before she became ordinary and sleepy once more. Gloria almost didn’t _want_ to know; but she was Duke’s friend. Maybe his only friend. And as sad and terrible as it was to have your only friend a crotchety and mean-tempered old woman, she knew Duke was more than glad (and rather grateful) to claim her as one.

She was fiercely proud to be Duke Crocker’s friend. She wished (almost every day) that she could have been more for him, that she could have been there when it counted, even if it did fuck-all for him in the eyes of the town. He was a good man. He was the best Haven could have hoped for…she just wished that more people had known that.

He was breathing normally again, the cock of his eyebrow showing his gratitude at being left to think for a moment – to gather his thoughts. She felt it was the least she could do for him. She had her own fortifying she’d had to do and silence can be the best company between bosom companions. They were that, truth be told. They were very different people, her and Duke; but not so different as all that. 

Her armor just happened to be a little thicker. Age has its advantages, after all.

“Anyway, I’m still searching for a Door,” Duke said calmly, grin just as crooked and bitter-sweet as ever. “With as much magick-crap as Croatoan was throwing around, there is bound to be a way back. I just have to find it. I’ve got plenty I’ve time, after all – no need to sleep. No need to eat or drink, either – which can be a drag. Speaking of drinks, is that the gin I got you a couple of Christmases ago?”

“You know it is,” Gloria snarked back, smacking her lips in simulated satisfaction. “S’almost all gone, too, so you’d better hurry your ass back to this plane of existence if you want to finish it off with me.”

Duke genuinely laughed then, a deep chuckle that seemed to roll from his chest in waves, soft but ringed with a humor that made it hard to not chuckle with him. Gloria allowed herself a pleased smile, content that she could get him to laugh – truly laugh – even with all that hung on the young man’s shoulders. 

She missed him. He was here, but _not_ …and if she could just clap him on the shoulder, reassure him of her presence with physical contact, she knew everything would be okay. It would be okay because he would make sure of it. Even now, he was trying and though she was grateful for it, it made her sad that he still was worried about everyone but himself.

“Hey, how’re you holding up?” Soft and ready to listen, mistaking her quiet for reflections on all that _she_ had lost. Still a deflection, but not one she could find fault with. It was part of who he was, really. 

“I’m fine most days,” she sniffed, taking an actual sip of the smooth alcohol, letting it warm the places that got too cold here the last few years. “I work – which helps more than you’d think – and I play grandma on Saturdays and Sundays. Even a few Mondays. It’s hard when I let it be hard, but life can be hard anyway – especially when you get to my age.”

“What age is that again?” Duke laughed, flinching back from the flap of her hand – the two of them forgetting (for just a moment) that he was nothing more than blow-back from the aether.

“Wise-assed puppy,” Gloria snarled, pretending offense.

They settled back into comfortable silence, the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the corner (a relic when she was a young intern) countering the quiet, making it more cozy than gloomy. She and Duke would sit here after hours many a time – playing checkers, drinking gin and bantering long into the night. Age and nightmares robbed her of sleep and just being himself did the same for him. Misery is said to love company, even when said company is less miserable and more friendly; so to say those were some of her best hours yet wasn’t too much of a stretch.

Didn’t hurt that Duke was easy on the eyes, either.

“Wish I could play checkers,” Duke grumbled, his thoughts obviously in the same place hers had been. “Almost as much as I wish I could have a nip of that gin.”

“You hate gin,” Gloria grumped back. “But I was thinking the same thing.”

Duke nodded absently, standing to stretch muscles that weren’t really there, the habit one he had formed long ago when he was getting ready to talk and wasn’t sure where to start. Gloria knew the best thing was to wait him out, so she did – fingers folded together comfortably under her bosom, head cocked as though she was listening for the clock ticking – her main focus taken off of Duke so he could get his thoughts lined up.

“Stopped and talked with Vince,” he said hesitantly, glancing her way to see if she was listening. She was, but she didn’t want to interrupt, so she just nodded slightly, pleased when he relaxed enough to sit back down. “He isn’t…the same without Dave, even as he is still _Vince_. Told me off about haunting the news office when the conversation ended. Guess that means I’m welcome, just not…”

He shrugged, scratching the back of his head thoughtfully, whatever transpired between them a subject he didn’t seem to want to broach, even as he danced around it. All she had to do was wait and he would tell her what he really wanted to say.

“Dwight just blows me off. I can understand that…never really any love lost there. And I’ve seen Audrey, though she looks through me, not _at_ me.” He laughed a little, dismay and no small amount of sadness layered in his mirth. He had been close with her, so it must have been startling to be looked at like just another stranger. “To be expected, I suppose. But when I tried to talk to Nathan…yeah, don’t look at me like that. I did try. There’s just this – ”

Duke splayed his hands out, a gesture of confusion and anger, frustrated that he either couldn’t say what he wanted to or that there were no words to convey it with. Likely more the latter than the former. Gloria coughed and uncorked the gin again. Three fingers on a hard day was generally her limit. But this was more than a hard day, more than a day where she was just saying goodbye to a babysitter and long-time friend. This was a day where she might be saying goodbye to more than just that. And if she had to walk home, so be it. She was old enough to do as she damn well pleased anyhow and piss on convention.

Duke grinned at her, half reproachful (the big mother hen) and half approving (his bad boy side), pursing his lips as he tried to explain his encounter with Nathan – separate his perceptions from the facts. He was always rather good at that. It was yet another trait they had in common and one that Gloria liked to hone in him whenever possible. In any other life, Duke would have excelled.

Too bad he loved this godforsaken patch of rock.

“I talked to him. I did. I asked him…well, I can’t really remember what I asked him. But it was like…like he couldn’t hear me. I could’ve been talking to his fucking _stove-top_ and I would have gotten more response. I just don’t know if – ”

If it was deliberate or he really couldn’t hear Duke. Gloria knew what he was saying.

But now she also knew Duke hadn’t been avoiding Nathan – as she had suspected him of doing. Oh no, it was far more worse than that. If he admitted to seeing Nathan even once, she could bet it had been a few times and it seemed he couldn’t get through.

She knew something Duke didn’t know, though: Nathan had been looking for him. He had heard of ‘Duke’s ghost’ being seen around Haven and he had gone searching; and this whole time, the man he had been searching for had been right under his nose.

Well if that wasn’t a pure-d bitch, she didn’t know what was. This was the penultimate in petty irony. Just another way for this town to hit back at the two men who had given heart and soul for it; and if that wasn’t Fate being fickle, she was Mary-fucking-Poppins, stupid hat and all.

“I’m sure it’s not what you think,” Gloria said gently, trying to find the words to convey what she knew (even if Duke wouldn’t believe it). “There’s more to this ghost thing than you’d think.”

“Not that it matters, anyway,” Duke said curtly, abrupt and more bitter than he had wanted to show, she was sure. “It was just me being selfish. He has…Audrey and I have a Door I need to find. Once I do…”

He laughed again, the sound more lonely and angry than uncaring, the clench of his jaw and hard set of his eyes just another flash of armor that few could see past. She knew of his reputation and how he’d gotten it. Though it was nothing more than a carefully constructed lie. It protected everyone but himself, even if he chose to think otherwise. 

“I think it is time for me and this shit-splat of a town to part ways,” more of a statement than a declaration – the whiteness of his knuckles the only give-away – his voice as calm as the sea at low-tide. “Nathan and I…well, I think he was well shut of me when we were kids. He has what he wants, what he needs. I won’t interfere in that. It was mean of me to try. There isn’t much to hold me here, besides you. Think seeing me just brings back bad memories for everyone.”

“Duke,” she started quietly.

“I shouldn’t even be here,” he muttered, standing too quickly, shoulders stiff and tight – a barrier against her and whatever she might say. “I’m sorry, Gloria. I know you were having a bad night as it is –”

“Duke Crocker, don’t you do this to me,” she thundered, hand clenched tight enough around the glass of gin to break it, amber liquid roiling violently in the confines of its container. “You don’t get to do this! I have lost too many people for you to run away from me. Not again.”

“I’m fading, Gloria,” he said helplessly. He wouldn’t look at her still and she knew he was afraid. He didn’t know how to be afraid, so he fell back on what he knew – and all he knew was running and hiding. She could understand it, even if she couldn’t condone it; her own helplessness and fury leaving her damned near gasping in this suddenly too tiny office. “If I don’t find that Door…”

“I’m sorry,” she said, breathless and hurting. Her own heartache more than she could bear, age and emotional scarring be damned. “But please don’t…I have missed you, Crocker. You don’t get to come in here and tell me that I shouldn’t. I’ve been on this earth for many years and no one gets to tell me how I should feel or not feel. And my friends don’t get to tell me that I can’t be their friend. I’m your friend, Duke – whether you want that or not. I’ve never been sorry about that a single minute and I never will be. Good or bad, those memories are mine. If you are hurting, I’m here to listen. If you are lonely and afraid, I’m here for that, too. For some reason, I’m still fucking ticking along and if there is a reason behind it all, it is moments like these. Please…please don’t shut me out. And don’t go like this.”

His shoulders shook, but his voice was as dry and airless as the desert; in that moment, she knew Duke was more than merely afraid. He was utterly terrified.

“I sometimes…I sometimes feel it tearing away – whatever is holding me in this Place.” He turned his face to her, blinking rapidly as though to keep himself from sobbing or screaming, his features smooth and relaxed in stark contrast to the waver in his voice. “If I don’t find my way back…I don’t know what is happening, but it makes me… _afraid_. I don’t – I don’t know what to do with that. And I don’t know how to ask –”

Gloria swallowed back a small shriek as Duke’s form rippled and faded for a mere moment, his voice remaining strong and _there_ \- even as his image warped and settled. She couldn’t imagine the strength it took to hold himself together (solid, yet not) and she wondered how long he had been fighting to hold onto whatever he was. 

Was this what he had come to tell her?

“You can ask me anything, Duke,” she said firmly, voice stronger than she felt – calmer and more sure than she thought she would ever be again. Yes, he was her friend. Yes, he needed her. And she needed to be there for him, even if they would never talk again on this (or any other) plane of existence. The idea of him just being _gone_ hurt more than she could contemplate at the moment – so much left to chance and every bit of it unknown. Not knowing would hurt the most…but this came a close second. “Whatever you need. Whatever you think I can do.”

He smiled his crooked, lopsided smile (the Duke Special), eyes soft with gratitude. He held out his hands and she tried to take them, even as her fingers closed over nothing. She thought it was nothing, anyway – yet as her skin tingled and her heart raced at the prickles of cold that emanated from where his hands were supposed to be. He bent and kissed her knuckles (sending more shivers of electric chill through her flesh), his smile crooked yet firm, eyes sad but content.

“If I don’t…if I can’t find the Door, if I don’t come back,” he paused to swallow, openly willing his voice to not break, his tone calm and gentle – the low-tide serenity overlaid with a undertow of heavy emotion that he could never (would never) convey. “Remember that…remember that I tried to be your friend. I wasn’t the best at it, but I tried. I love you, Gloria. You were more friend and mother to me than…well, you know me best, don’t you?”

“Duke,” trying to be as calm as him, but failing – too many losses coming back to pull at her, make her remember their pain, even as this new one tried to take their place in her heart. “you have always been a better man and friend than you will ever know. I love you, too, dear boy. I wish I could have made you family. I should have, but I could never…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Duke grinned, the sudden sunniness almost as heartbreaking as his clumsy (yet sweet) attempt to say goodbye. “It all worked out for the best, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Gloria sniffled, unable to hold it back any longer, damn his eyes. “It certainly did.”

“There is just one more thing, if you can.” Shyly, as though he was making a request that was unreasonable. She already knew what that request was, though. She would gladly speak for him – anytime, anywhere.

And she knew exactly what she would say.

“Thank you,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her cheek; the tingle more solid than before, though no less cold. She didn’t have to say a thing after all, it seemed. He already knew what she would do if he could not. They always had that connection.

She missed him in this moment more than she ever had before; his crooked smile, his roguish laughter and bad-boy ways. She loved him more fiercely than ever and wished she could actually hold his hands, maybe hug him the way he sorely needed – deep, bone-crushing hugs – and never let him go again.

Instead, she smiled at him, trying to be his friend, even as her heart sat heavy and tired in her chest. Getting old sucked. Getting old and never being able to escape pain sucked even more. But she’d take it. If it meant one more minute with her friend, she’d take it.

“You’d better come see me again, Duke Crocker,” she rasped, shouldering away a stray tear that had escaped the cage of her iron will. She sniffled once and kept smiling, scowling a bit when he grinned back – her lovely, formidable rogue once more. “If you can, you’d better get your ass back here. Door or no Door, you hear me?”

He was going to reply, but never got the chance. The tingle in her fingers faded first, then he just melted away from sight. There one moment, gone the next. All she could do was clench her fists and hold them against her mouth to keep the sobs in. It had been a long while since she had cried and she was determined to not cry now.

She shuffled back to her creaky chair, feeling every one of her years as she sat back down. It felt like there was to be a long night ahead – and she was tired down to her bones – yet as wide awake as a body could get: waiting, waiting, waiting for Duke to come back, for him to burst through the office door, eyes full of answers to questions she would never ask. Sorry that he scared her, that he brought such sorrow and joy to her warm little cubbyhole – but excited that he had found A Way. 

Because of course he would. He always did…didn’t he?

Even if he had, though, he would have been late to the party. She finished off the last of the gin at 4am. 

It was 5am before she went home.

After all, she had a funeral to attend in the afternoon. One in a long, long line of them – too long. One more friend she had to say goodbye to. 

But there was one thing she could say about Heidi that she _couldn’t_ say about Duke: she knew where she was, how she had passed. A cold comfort, but a comfort all the same. 

She couldn’t say that about Duke. Even as it felt like goodbye, her old heart said it couldn’t be. She sometimes wished her heart would just shut up about things like that. Duke was full of surprises. Always had been. Usually that was a happy thought. 

But even in the soft warmth of her bed, happy thoughts were farther away than ever. Hope sat cold under her skin, just as elusive as the concept of those happy thoughts and the youth that had long passed her by. Duke could work miracles when he had a mind to. But what if seeing him _was_ the miracle. Her heart and head were waging a war over the might-bes and never-wills – and frankly, she was getting too old and tired for fairytales. Her heart might be right – but her head and gut said her heart had missed the mark this time.

Duke had come to say goodbye. He wasn’t coming back. 

And she was too exhausted and heartbroken to know how to even feel about that; the gin hindering far more than helping at this point. It had been good gin. It had been a joke gift and her own gleefully kept secret sitting at the bottom of a false drawer in her desk for the longest time. Now, like Duke, it was no more – and if she had tears to cry over it, she was too worn out to tend to them now.

‘Tomorrow’ was today. And as much as she didn’t want to, she had to face the real world and a very real (and final) goodbye come 3pm. If the tears came then, she would cry them and be glad of it. Crying never solved anything, no; but it could heal the ache she had been carrying for far longer than she liked to admit. Being strong was all well and good, but sometimes (only sometimes) a pigheaded old woman like her could find a new strength, even in a way that felt like weakness. She could still learn, even as old as she was.

And wouldn’t that just make Duke rib her to no end. Old dogs and new tricks, indeed.

She finally drifted off at 6am, just as the Rickert’s stupid rooster started crowing at the rising sun, her last thoughts circling on miracles, Crocker curses – and the crookedness of Duke’s smile.

 

The next month was a slow and ponderous one. The tourists had packed up and gone, leaving the usual small-town hospital fare. Fewer fatalities didn’t mean less work, though. 

The state inspectors had come and gone, leaving behind only praise and paperwork, which meant she had little to do once they were out of the way. Her freezer being less full meant more time for inventory and budget checks – far from her favorite thing, as fuss-work was more for bean-counters and eggheads in her reckoning. But it was important work and if she left it to her two gremlins (though they preferred autopsy-jockeys nowadays), she would just be going back over their work with a fine-toothed comb anyway, so it was just best if she rolled up her sleeves and got to it.

Nathan came by a few times, but was gone as quick as he had come, his face more tired and drawn than it should have been with the Troubles over and the town back to sleepy simplicity once more. He waved her off when she asked him about it and said it was back-logging and dealing with his own set of inspectors that kept him up nights.

She thought he was full of shit, but she kept that thought to herself. When and if Detective Wuornos wanted to talk, he would – and not a minute sooner. He was a lot like his papa on that respect. 

Good thing she liked him more than she had his papa, though. 

He never asked her about Duke and she never offered information. It was still too fresh – and though she had a promise to keep – something held her back. Maybe one day she would speak, but that day was not to come anytime soon. It was something she felt in her bones – and though they had been known to be brittle and tired, she trusted them more than she did her heart – so she let it lie.

It might have been those odd moments that stayed her tongue: the feeling that someone was standing next to her, even when no one was there. The odd prickle of electric cold as she filed paperwork in the darkening gloom of dusk. The times when she could feel a smile twitch on her lips, or she went to respond to an unspoken quip or query that she knew was being aimed at her, even as she was the only person in the room. 

It never felt creepy or frightening. Nothing about Duke Crocker could be creepy or frightening – even at the height of the Troubles. Gloria had seen many bad and terrible men and events. Duke had never factored into any of those events (or people), unless you counted him trying to stop them; with the help of his friends or no. Often, it was without their help as far as she could see. Most of the time, he was under suspicion…even by those he called friends.

That, too, might have a lot to do with why she never spoke to Nathan about him. Deep in her heart, she thought he didn’t deserve it. It was her secret, Duke had been her friend – and even with the promise he laid upon her – she could keep it all for herself for a little while longer.

She was checking on the recording supplies when the devil she had been ruminating on popped up (as is usually the case), the dark circles under his eyes and grim lines to his mouth deeper and more pronounced than they had been even on those last days; when Croatoan had his grip firmly on Haven and all who resided within. He looked terrible, even as she would think he would be hale and hearty – his town calm and sleepy once more – his Audrey (or whatever she may be known as now – Gloria never bothered to find out), by his side once more. 

He had wooed and won her, as the talk goes – and even if small towns loved their gossip, Haven’s gossip was generally more on the nose than in most townships like it. He dated her quietly, taking a more sedate pace than he had before, as time and circumstances had not permitted such when the Troubles had been in full sway. For all that, he should’ve been happy and content; yet his eyes told another story – the set of his shoulders and grayness of his face backing up the tale of sorrow those eyes held within them.

“Nathan,” Gloria huffed, slightly out of breath from the stuffy dustiness of the supply closet where they stored the back-up recording equipment. She shook off as much of the dust as she could (which wasn’t much, she did run a tight ship after all), and silently indicated her office, more for herself than for him. She was hankering after a cup of joe as well as an excuse to take a break and if he was there, she’d use the opportunity to get off of her feet and take a breather, as her gremlins were fond of saying.

He shook his head when she offered coffee (worrying in itself, as Nathan was well known to go through two pots of the stuff before noon, easy), but looked more than grateful to sink into the proffered chair, grimacing as he sat as if he hadn’t rested for quite a while. She studied him under her eyebrows, sweeping all her reports to one side so she could lean against the free space, attention at the ready. 

Generally Nathan was in and out so fast, she could catch a glimpse of him, but little else besides – in her ‘inner sanctum’, under the dim light of the cloudy day pouring through the windows – she could see he looked little better than she first assessed. ‘Death warmed over’ came to mind, but was quickly rejected: autopsy humor likely wouldn’t go over well with him at this juncture and she was too tired herself to cater to small talk, anyhow.

“What brings you around, Wuornos? Better not be to keel over. I just cleaned my freezers and I’d like them to stay that way a little bit longer, if you please.” Clipped, but light all at once; the door open if Nathan needed it, but business-like if he just chose to talk shop.

Nathan studied his hands for a moment, smile twitching at his lips, but never fully forming – almost as if he knew what a smile _was_ , but had forgotten how to do it. He looked around the office as if he had never seen it before, his eyebrows indicating surprise like he wasn’t quite sure how he had gotten there.

“Nathan?” Gentler this time, letting her concern creep in – hoping it would get his attention. “Are you okay there, kiddo?”

“Hmm?” He snapped to a fuzzy attention, leaning forward, elbows planted on his knees as he scrubbed his fingers into his eyes. “Yeah, yeah – I just…needed to rest a moment, I guess.”

“You need to go home. Go to bed and sleep. Think 24 hours will remove those rings from your eyes – do wonders for your health, too. Meant it about my freezers, kid.” She kept her tone flippant, but she was steadily assessing him as if he was a patient. Nathan needed two solid meals in him and more sleep than just a full days by the look of him. He looked like something the cat sicked up and that was no joke.

“I can’t…I can’t, Gloria – and I’m hoping maybe you’ll…” he trailed off, looking as lost as Duke had a mere month or more ago, the comparison making her breath catch in her throat, even as she tried to detach herself from the feelings that image stirred. “I’ve got to be losing my mind. If I am, I know you’ll tell me.”

“Ain’t got a mind to lose, Wuornos,” she joked, eyes flicking from his face to his hands to the set of his shoulders. Deep exhaustion. Malnutrition. Dehydration. That was just for starters. “Family trait, unfortunately. You should go home. Have that nice girl make you a meal and put you to bed. Shower likely wouldn’t hurt either. You look like deep-fried road-kill, son.”

“I can’t,” his voice cracked a little, but he didn’t seem to notice, his mind too focused on whatever was keeping him from eating and sleeping properly. “I keep thinking…everyone has said they’ve talked to Duke. I know he has to be close by, but I haven’t seen him – I don’t know if I ever will. I…I killed him and he’s haunting everyone _but_ me. I can’t look at Audrey without seeing what I…what I did and I just know – ”

He didn’t even seem to notice that he had called the woman who was once known as Audrey by her well known moniker, though Gloria was quite sure that wasn’t her name now. He was so focused on what he had done and the consequences he thought he was paying, that he couldn’t even keep that in his mind. 

Gloria’s heart clenched a little and she sighed, irritated that both Nathan and Duke could rouse such feelings from her, even as she resisted them with everything she had. Nathan had brought his own misery upon himself. He did what he had to do, she knew there was no guilt over that. Duke had begged him to help and Nathan did so. But what had come before that was what haunted him. Duke had given his all so that Nathan could have the life he had been chasing for so long…but Nathan had never given an inch on his mistrust and suspicion of the man he had claimed was his friend. It took Duke dying by his hand to make him say all the things he should have said before – all those things that had festered between him dying with his friend, no matter what Nathan said or didn’t say.

“Nathan…” Gloria sighed, knowing what she should say, but unsure how to go about it. Dead people and reports and her family filled her life. Paperwork and the dead don’t care for words – and her family had long gotten used to her odd and rough ways of affection. 

Speaking from the heart was hard for her. Just as hard as it had been for Duke, as it was (most of the time) for Nathan. It was this that unlocked her tongue, let her say the things that needed saying. Not the Promised Words…it wasn’t time for those, not yet. Nathan was teetering on the edge and those words were made to topple, no matter how gently they were uttered. But she could come close. One day she could tell him what Duke wanted him to know. But until then, she could help Duke’s friend – her friend, if she was honest. She just had to find those words that could heal instead of harm. Delicate work that she was unused to, but work she could do if she had to.

She reached for his hands and was grateful when he returned the contact, gripping his fingers in hers as she wished she could have done with Duke; pleased when Nathan squeezed back – the sensation of touch still a new and wondrous experience for him. She remembered the day he could no longer feel…that was the same day he stopped talking to one Duke Crocker. So much had changed, even as it remained the same. Such is the way of all things, in her reckoning.

“Nathan, Duke loved you. You did what you had to do, you know that. He was willing to give what he had for Haven – for you and Audrey. Go home, Nathan. Get something to eat, get some rest. Kiss Audrey. Make a life. He would want that for you. He did what he had to…for you. You’re alive. You survived. You got through the hard part. Living can be hard, too, but it gets easier. Take it from a woman who survived two bouts of Troubles and is still standing.” She squeezed his fingers again, trying to smile.It hurt in a way that surprised her, even though she knew she shouldn’t’ve been surprised. “Go home, Nathan. Give up this search for Duke. He isn’t here. You are. And you know that living, being _alive_ was what he truly wanted for both you and Audrey. Don’t make it all in vain, kiddo.”

He nodded, the movement jerky and unsure, head bowed as he fought for breath, closer to breaking down than Gloria had seen him in a long, long while. She smiled at his shaggy forelocks, wondering absently if he would get a haircut anytime soon, when his grip tightened almost to the point of pain, his eyes wild and awake when he looked up at her, mouth grim as it twisted into a scowl of suspicion.

“You’ve seen him, haven’t you?” His voice was a low growl, eyes overly bright and haunted as she jerked her hands away from him. His eyes narrowed, attention laser-like as he tracked her every movement, even when she stood up, her hands folded primly in front of her. She pulled on the mantle of professionalism, a knee-jerk habit that was a boon and a curse all at once – but it helped in times of high stress. If any situation was high stress, this one was, though she was hard-pressed to say who it was more stressful _for_.

“Gloria, I –”

“Go home, Nathan,” Gloria said firmly, kindly, but not gently. She was still hurting herself, the loss of Duke a hole she was only just beginning to realize and she did not need Nathan to add to that hole. Selfish as it was, she only had enough strength to take on her own pain. Nathan’s pain was self-made and if he could just rest, maybe he would feel better. Hell, maybe if he just got drunk and let it out in a bar-brawl he would feel better – but she couldn’t give him absolution. No one but Duke could do that. 

And Duke was no longer here. Even if he had been able to talk to Nathan, Nathan had been unable to hear him. She wondered dimly if that was what made him fade away: if he had used all of his strength and energy to communicate with a man that couldn’t or wouldn’t hear him. Whether that was the town or Nathan’s own inflexibility, she couldn’t be sure – but she also couldn’t handle the thought that Duke had finally passed over because he couldn’t be heard by the one person who needed to hear him above all others. 

“Please…Gloria – why…why did he go to everyone but me? I loved – he was my brother, my _friend_. If I did the right thing, if I did what had to be done – why can’t he speak to me?” Nathan’s eyes shined with unshed tears, his anguish a solid force that no one (not even Audrey, Gloria was sure), could penetrate. 

He looked like a dead man walking – and no matter what Gloria or anyone else said, Nathan would either grieve and move on, or break. She knew what would happen when a man like him broke; she only hoped she wasn’t there to see the aftermath. There were only so many heartaches one could take in a lifetime – and she’d had more than her fair share – sure as Moses had parted the Red Sea. So she did the only thing she could, the thing she knew she had to do, to help save this man from himself.

“He loved you, too, kiddo. And he would be unhappy to see you like this. I don’t know why you haven’t seen or spoken with him, I truly don’t. I do know he was trying to find a way back to us all…I don’t know if he will make it. I don’t know if he finally died trying. I do know that his heart would break to see you like this. Please…do what Duke wished for once – he died so you could live. Go and live, Nathan.” She reached for her phone, coming around the desk to grip his shoulder, giving him the physical contact he obviously needed to ground him, his sobs silent and harsh – like a hurt and bewildered child. 

She gripped him like she wished she could’ve hugged Duke – solid, crushing, reassuring – and dialed out, sure that the phone would be answered. She held onto him until Dwight came for him, still wishing the shoulder under her palm was Crocker’s, even as she was comforted to be able to give some relief to Nathan’s pain. It helped ease some of her own. It didn’t abate it, but it eased it a little – and it was with a heavy heart that she released him into Dwight’s tender, quiet care. Dwight would make sure he ate and got the rest he needed. After that…well, that was up to Nathan, wasn’t it?

 

It still took a little while (and two more cups of coffee than she should have consumed) to get back to work. And it wasn’t until she went to sleep that she could shake the look in Nathan’s eyes when it was time for him to go – she carried that own look in her heart – and that same heart had stopped talking of miracles. It had finally gone quiet and she didn’t know quite what to do with that. It wasn’t half as relieving as she thought it would be. It felt like acceptance…but it also felt a lot like resignation. Not a feeling she was used to, much less comfortable with.

Above all, it felt like a terrible hole gone wider. Only one thing could fix that and she was sure she didn’t believe it could be fixed. 

Not anymore.

Her sleep was restless and tattered, the nightmares that had come to plague her fading as soon as she woke up to a new day. The cornered edges of those dreams stuck in her mind, though, her thoughts too muddled to make sense of them, even as she gave it her stubborn-best. The feeling that she had missed something important nagged at her until she forced herself out of the drowsy warmth of her bed, the cold doing little to abate its persistence, but much to wake her, even as she wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. 

Sometimes retirement looked appealing all over again. Other times she remembered how much she hated it. Today was one of the days where she was left unsure of why she even bothered to get dressed. She could only hope that this conundrum would be solved by the time to she got to work, even as the bags under her eyes told her she was getting to damned old to be worried over such things anymore.

All in all, it was shaping up to be a long and terrible day.

Sure enough, the morning started out heavy and gray, the minutes grinding by in measured slowness, allowing too much time to think, but not enough time to sort the thoughts out. Relief came with an unexpected visit from her middle son, his wee ones tumbling out of the car and into the house with the fresh exuberance of youth and love of life and mornings. Mere moments later, her grandchildren piled into the kitchen to chatter brightness into her bleak exhaustion, their laughter filling the dark corners and chasing away the shadows that had taken residence in them. 

As she played with her youngest grandson (tow-headed, chubby and filled with awe over all things small and ordinary), she was able to forget – for a little while, at least – happy to be lost in his wee roguish laugh and crooked baby-smile.

 

Life went on as it always does, even for Haven, Maine. The days faded from mid-summer to crisp fall – the leaves on the trees bringing darker, yet cheery color to the skies and streets of Haven. Her freezers and tables saw little business, but everything was cleaned and organized all the same, waiting for any changes that may come to the current status quo. Fall brought its own hazards and deaths – winter even more than that. But for now, she was left to her medical journals and hot cocoa sessions with Leroy Barnes, the oldest of her gremlins and the one with the most sense, even as he was a touch of an egghead. He couldn’t play checkers worth a damn, but he was good company all the same.

She generally tried to be out of the office before nightfall, these days. The empty gin-bottle rested at the bottom of the false drawer, yet to be replaced – and really, she was in no hurry to do so. Evenings here felt hollow. Empty. What used to fill them was long past – and even with all the good company in the world, nothing could replace _them_ , nor would she want anything to do so. Erasing the past and refilling it was cheating in her book. 

She still missed him, but not as deeply as she had; at least, this was what she told herself, even as her new determination to not be in her office after nightfall may indicate otherwise. Too much time had passed for that. The hole was still there, but it was quiet now – so she made sure to not poke at it too much, filling her nights with crosswords and bad television – even her taste for gin having faded over the last couple of months. She tried to not think of him. Tried to not think of Doors and where in Haven a few may still be located. She did look a few up, just for curiosity’s sake, but she didn’t dare to go poke about and see if they were truly there.

Haven had gone to sleep. Whatever may have driven her before had faded away about the same time Duke had – and the inlet was just an inlet now. Sad in and of itself, but one less worry for the town-folk, Gloria was sure. They were more than happy to let sleeping monsters lie, even if other things that weren’t monsters slept as well. It was a town now and nothing more.

There were days when she was happy about that. Other days when she was not. But she had come to accept it.

During the lull in the examiner’s office she’d hardly had a chance to see anyone. Vincent came to see her at least once, but only because he was doing a report on traffic accidents and he needed some statistics. He was pushing the council to put a light at 1st and Hawthorne and if anyone could get the town council to cave on this, it was Vince. It was Dave’s crusade, but Vince had taken up the charge. Gloria approved: it helped Vincent cope, if nothing else.

Besides, that area was dangerous during rush hour (such as it was in Haven) and it was prone to accidents at 2 in the morning. A light might not help much, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt, either. she would be more than happy to see fewer bodies on her table because of that intersection – so when Dwight brought the petition around, she signed it. Hopefully seeing her name on the paper might help Danny Somerfeld see some sense and sign off on the expenditure, even if it hurt his miserly soul to do so.

So that was two people during midsummer to fall that she had seen, besides the normal hospital staff. Nathan hadn’t been around since his breakdown in her office and (according to the hush-hush), he had been on leave for the last couple of weeks, per Dwight’s orders. 

She wondered if he had gotten any rest. 

Then she wondered why she would ask herself such a stupid question…of course he hadn’t. 

Days like today were made for staying in bed late. It was cloudy and cool, the weather was mild for this late in the season and everything smelled like wood-smoke, salt sea and cinnamon-apples. It was a day for hot cocoa, late brunches and shutting off the alarm. 

Six months ago, at the beginning of her short-lived retirement, she would have done just that. Even with the nightmares that occasionally plagued her, the idea of a lie-in was appealing – and she half wished she had called in sick and gone back to sleep. Her paperwork was caught up, the morgue was (thankfully) empty of any bodies that needed attending to and she was fresh out of cocoa packets for her coffeemaker.

They could always use an extra pair of hands in the hospital, but she had a bad habit of seeing every patient as a potential body – which did nothing but depress her and creep her out just a tad. It was something she was trained for – but it didn’t make the handling of live patients any easier.

Nothing for it then. She would have to call it a day earlier than usual. Why waste the taxpayers money when one didn’t have to? Just one more check of her files, make sure they were in order, then she could lock up and go home. Looked like another long night of crosswords and bad television ahead, but there were worse things to look forward to, she was sure.

Gloria didn’t startle easily. It is one of those things that bear repeating; especially when one is trying to remind ones’ self to _not_ jump ten feet and have a heart attack simultaneously. Not that her family had a history of heart troubles (unlike Gus, she’d had hers checked), but stranger things have been known to happen.

Like the fact that Duke Crocker was standing in the middle of her office, examining the empty bottle of gin from her secret stash drawer. 

This is one of those things that obviously bears repeating.

Duke Crocker. In her office. Big as brass and bold as day. Examining the empty leftovers of a gift he had given her two Christmases ago as a joke. Gotten from the false drawer bottom in her desk.

Actually _touching_ the damned thing.

She froze in the doorway, sure that she had fallen somewhere on the autopsy floor and had hit her head. There was really no other explanation. She had waited for a couple of months – no Duke. And yet, here he was.

“Bit of rancid cheese before bedtime,” she muttered, then had to swallow the urge to cackle like a lunatic.

He looked up, then. Whether he had heard her enter (though more likely he heard her talking to herself), he’d noticed her and now he was striding towards her with those lovely long legs, lopsided grin at the full Duke Special, afternoon sun shining on him, but not through/around him. Like he was actually _there_.

He paused to semi-scowl at the gin bottle, placing it on the edge of the desk before opening his arms wide for a hug, his grin lighting up by another thousand watts; as if she was the most fantastic thing he had ever seen.

She smacked him.

Actually, she slapped at the side of his head, making him stumble a bit and pout like a kicked puppy – his ‘owwww!’ more that of a petulant ten year old than a full grown man. She wanted to slap him again: for scaring her, for not scaring her sooner, for being dead for too damned long and for not letting her know when/how/why/where/who. She wanted to know these things. She had needed the closure. And yet here he was, like nothing had happened at all.

Then she wanted to hug him and never let him go. Maybe cry. And that made her want to smack him all over again. Her emotions were on a damned merry-go-round and she wasn’t sure if she was furious or happy.

“Gloria?” His voice was hesitant, as if unsure of his welcome and that grounded her in a hurry.

“God damn you, Duke Crocker,” she rasped, pulling him into the hug he seemed to still be expecting, holding him tight enough to feel him gasp for his next breath.

His next breath. 

Nothing sounded better to her right now.

“Hey,” he said gently, arms going tight around her (but not too tight), lifting her slightly before setting her back down. “You said to come see you if…and you were the first person I wanted to see. I made you a promise.”

“Yes, yes you did,” she sniffled, trying to not cry, but unable to stop herself even if she had really put some gumption behind it. “Thank you, kiddo. I was so sure – ”

He guided her to her chair, helping her sit before he picked up the bottle, playing with it as he perched on her desk – just as he had two months before. When he had come to say goodbye. Or maybe it was hello. She never could be sure with him.

“I, uh…I was kind of sure that was the end, myself,” he said quietly, everything going still, his eyes boring into the bottle as though it could give him all the answers he ever needed to know. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just…I couldn’t hold on anymore.”

She stayed quiet, letting him find his words. It wasn’t as though Duke didn’t have any (he always did), he just needed to find them in the right order. Her husband had been that way, bless his soul – so this was nothing new to her. And like all things when it came to Duke Crocker, her instincts never led her astray.

“It was like,” he paused, fingers dancing over the bottle, a drumming rhythm that seemed to calm him and help his find his way through, his half-smile dimmed and drowsy, like the memory was just beyond reach, but too fresh to be anything but raw. “It was like an undertow, you know?”

She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. Haven was on the sea. They were all sea-folk. Everyone (at least once) had been caught out by the tide – the chilling terror and calm assurance that it was over had hummed through everyone’s blood here…even if only the once. Once was more than enough – and no one ever forgot it.

“I was being dragged away. Everything – you, the office…even memory – faded. I didn’t mean to scare you, I really didn’t –”

“I know, kiddo,” she assured him, the lost look on his face, the pleading earnestness in his eyes telling her of how helpless he felt, how he had been just as scared as she had. It was horrible, that look – but it was comforting all at once. She wasn’t the only one who was unsure at that time. But it looked as though it was worse for him. “I know. I didn’t mean to imply that you did. I know you would never do such a thing, Duke.”

He took a deep breath and nodded – looking relieved, looking vindicated…and it only made her feel like crying all over again. Everything he had been through – and he still had the same battles to face. He had faced these other battles alone. But then, what battle had he ever _not_ been alone? Even when surrounded by those he cared about, he never truly got the same assurances from them.

Not until the day one of his friends had to kill him…to be sure the rest of them lived.

She could only hope he wouldn’t have to die all over again to get that same care and love returned. He deserved better. Everyone did, really. But Duke deserved what he never got and what the rest of them took for granted. To be sure, she would never take him for granted again. She only hoped the rest of the town would do the same.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, those two words meaning many, many things. “What happened after…well, that is a really, really long story. One day, I hope to tell it to you. I’ll even bring a bottle of gin, whaddya say?”

“You better,” Gloria snarked back. “Finished this one without you. Shoulda come back sooner, you lunkhead.”

“Yeah, I should have,” he laughed, roguish grin back in full force and damn if she could bask in that all day. “One thing I can tell you – I discovered my Door. Well, of course I did – else I wouldn’t be here.”

“Gonna tell me where or am I gonna hafta slap you again?” She retorted, only half-meaning it.

“The last place you’d expect,” he said seriously. “And it wasn’t one Door, it was a series. It began at my boat and ended…well, it ended in the police station.”

Gloria’s eyes widened, knowing exactly where at the police station.

“Do you mean – ”

“Yeah,” Duke said ruefully. “Where Nathan, uhhh..”

“Killed you,” Gloria said flatly.

“Where he helped me,” Duke replied, tone a touch chiding, if fond. “I think that was why he couldn’t hear me. He couldn’t let that moment go and…well…”

“Since he was the one who ‘ghosted’ you so to speak,” Gloria finished, nodding to herself. “Well, that theory works as well as any.”

“Hey, I hope you don’t mind…umm, not to change the subject – ”

“But doing so anyway,” Gloria laughed, glad that somethings never changed. “I won’t mind unless you tried to blow up my autopsy room. Again.”

“It was only the _once_ ,” Duke protested, relaxing a bit further at her banter. “I wasn’t aiming to do that anyhow.”

“No, just make alcohol…though what possessed you to do that – with equipment from a coroner’s lab, no less – I’ll never know,” she leaned forward to pat his knee, take any bite out of her words. “Now, you hope I wouldn’t mind what?”

“If I use your phone,” He said sheepishly. “I don’t know what happened to mine and I found myself here without really stopping to talk to anyone, so –”

“Of course you can,” she said abruptly, knowing his phone was likely tagged and bagged somewhere. Just because Duke’s body had up and disappeared didn’t mean anything he left behind hadn’t been catalogued. But that could all be hashed out later. “Do you need me to leave the room?”

“No, I don’t – ” Duke started to say, but stopped short when a voice in the coroner’s lab called out for Gloria.

Nathan’s voice.

Duke went completely still, face white as he obviously contemplated stepping from the room to greet him, then thought better of it. Gloria patted his knee again to get his attention, nodding encouragingly as she called out to Nathan to ‘keep his hair on’.

“Isn’t that who you were going to call?” She whispered, heart clenching at the anxious look on Duke’s face.

“Well, yeah, but…if things go south,” Duke wasn’t a fretter, but Gloria could understand the hesitation. Nathan had killed him. Nathan had made no bones the last several years, of the love he didn’t have for one Duke Crocker. That the man was nervous was understandable. But Gloria knew he didn’t have to be.

“Well, if it goes badly, there is always the option to leave Haven as you planned,” she said simply, knowing that this was the least likely outcome. “But I don’t think that will be necessary after all.”

Duke nodded and seemed to steel himself for anything, striding to the door and stepping through it with the determination of a man to see it all through, come hell or high water (whichever came first). From the stunned outburst at his presence, Gloria guessed Nathan was just as surprised, if not more so, that she had been.

She peeked around the doorway and saw Duke caught in Nathan’s crushing grip, Wuornos hugging him tight and looking like he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. It seemed Duke didn’t know quite what to do with the hug, their past still all too fresh in his mind; but eventually, being the good man that he was, he relented, embracing Nathan in a gentle way as the other man half slid to the autopsy floor, the quiet murmurs as Duke calmed his friend a balm to Gloria’s heart.

She left them to it, bustling to the coffeemaker to get a pot started. She was out of cocoa packets, but there was never any shortage of coffee – and it looked like the two of them were going to stay awhile. 

“So much for closing up shop and leaving early,” she grumped to herself – but she had to admit, she was rather pleased all the same.

Soon enough, things would be back to normal (at least, what passed for normal in Haven), even if they would never really be the same. She wasn’t too put out about that, though. Maybe this time, it would be better. 

Either way, this was a damned good start.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Warnings:** Character Study, Speculation, Instropection, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Alternate Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Het, Unrequited Love, Hints of a Previous Slash Relationship  
>  **A/N:** Written for the **[After Forever Fic-Exchange]()** at the request of [PeterHaleforAlpha](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PeterHaleforAlpha/pseuds/PeterHaleforAlpha) (I certainly hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!) This fiction tried to elude me. It was only the day _after_ it was supposed to be posted that it finally demanded to be written. It was only supposed to be 1000 words, but as you can likely see, it got a little out of hand. I'm guessing the characters had more to say than I originally expected! I'd hoped to have this posted sooner, but time was against me all the way, so I'm very relieved to get this up, as I was quite sure (at one point) that it wasn't going to happen! I'm just a tad nervous about this fiction, as this is the first time I have written anything for Haven. It has also (unfortunately) been a while since I've seen this awesome Show (life did not allow for a rewatch). I can only hope the characters sound true and that this fiction is even mildly readable. I had a lovely time writing it, though and it would make me happy if my recepient (much less anyone else who happens to read this piece) enjoyed reading it half as much as I did writing it. I do apologize if the characterization falls a bit short - and if there is a next time, I can only strive to do better. This fic is mostly unbeta'd and written in one go, so please forgive any mistakes and/or blatant vagueness. And (as always), I apologize for any repetition, misspellings, sentence fails, grammatical oh-noes and general horridness. Unbeta'd fic is overly-thinky/wandery/blithery and unbeta'd.  
>  **Disclaimer(s): _I do not own Haven or any of the awesome characters therein. That honor goes to the SyFy and the clever Mr Stephen King. The only thing that belongs to me is this fiction - and I am making no profit. Only playing about!_**


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